The Second Aleran Legion
by horus42
Summary: Thanks to the success of the First Aleran Legion, Gaius Sextus has decided to expand the franchise.  And not a moment too soon, as trouble is brewing in Rhodes. Takes place in an AU, about halfway between books 3 and 4.  Focuses mostly on OCs.
1. Prologue

Author's note: I do not own the Codex Alera or any of Jim Butcher's intellectual property, although the OCs and the storyline are mine.

Valiar Tiberius had never been to Alera Imperia before. The city was simply massive, like nothing he was used to, during his normally quiet life near Riva, although all of that changed six years ago during the Second Battle of Calderon. He had been serving as Subtribune Tactica at Garrison, in the Calderon Valley, when the Marat horde invaded. Due to the bravery of his actions in that battle, and in the Battle of Aricholt against the monstrous creatures known only as The Vord two years later, the First Lord awarded him with a name in the House of the Valiant, and the new Count of Calderon, a former Steadholder named Bernard, promoted Tiberius to Tribune Tactica.

Now, after serving faithfully as a Tribune for the better part of a decade, Tiberius had been summoned before the First Lord. He was waiting anxiously in a large antechamber outside the First Lord's office, when a man, outfitted in Legion lorica, stepped through the door. He had a limp, and Tiberius suspected that he knew who this man was: Miles Valerian, Captain of the Crown Legion. Tiberius snapped a quick salute, placing his right fist over his heart. Miles returned the gesture, and simply said, "The First Lord will see you now."

Tiberius nodded, and went through the door. Inside, he saw a tall man wearing a shirt of fine red and blue silk, who looked to be no more than forty, although in truth he was over twice that age. The First Lord, Gaius Sextus, was seated at a large, hardwood desk, and regarded Tiberius with a steely, wolfish glare. He spoke in a worn, gravelly voice, "Tribune Tiberius, glad you could make it."

"Of course, Sire. To what do I owe the honor?"

"As I'm sure you're well aware, the First Aleran Legion has been busy this past year, holding off the Canim incursion in the Amaranth Vale. Part of their success is due to their Captain, the young and surprisingly talented Rufus Scipio, and partly, at least in my opinion, to their diversity. The First Aleran is made up of Legionnaires from all over The Realm, and holds no loyalty to any particular High Lord, and thus can't be used for their selfish machinations."

Tiberius nodded. "Yes, Sire. Am I being transferred to the First Aleran, then? I know that many of their officers were killed in the initial attack."

Gaius grinned. "No, you aren't. Instead, I have deemed the experiment a success, and am looking to expand. I'm forming a Second Aleran Legion, and I want you to be a part of it."

"Understood, Sire." Tiberius relaxed slightly, and said, "But, with all due respect, why did you call me out here just to tell me I'm being transferred into a new Legion? Are you personally contacting all of the officers?"

"I summoned you to the Capital because I like to make a point of personally appointing Captains to my Legions."

Tiberius' eyes widened in shock, he hadn't been expecting that. He had been confident that he was not in any kind of trouble with The First Lord, but he also hadn't planned on being given command of an entire crowbegotten Legion either. "Th-thank you, Sire. I promise not to let you down."

"I am confident in your abilities, Captain Tiberius." Gaius slid a scroll across the desk, and as Tiberius picked it up, he said, "Those are your first orders. In a few months' time, I expect the Second Aleran to be ready to see active duty. There's word of trouble brewing in Rhodes, as if the Canim invasion and High Lord Kalarus' rebellion weren't enough…"

Tiberius saluted, and said, "I'll have the Legion ready for anything you can throw us at, Sire."

"See that you do. You're dismissed, Captain." Gaius turned back to his work, as the newly christened Captain Valiar Tiberius left his office.


	2. Chapter I

Centurion Cassius Severus paced along the ranks of his Century. He was a large Antillan man, who had served on the Shieldwall fighting the Icemen for over ten years. He had blond hair, shorn close to his scalp in Legion fashion, and cold grey eyes. While he regarded his Legionnaires with a look of contempt, he was actually fairly pleased with their progress. Each and every one of them was a new recruit to the Second Aleran, and had learned to march in formation in only a few days, something that is much harder than it actually sounds.

Severus believed that discipline was the only thing that held a Legion together, and that the Legions were the only things separating Alera from certain destruction. As a result, he took his duties very seriously. As his Century came to a halt, he called out in his loudest voice, "Congratulations, fish. Now that you've demonstrated at least some basic competence, I might be able to trust you with some weapons training now."

Severus extended his watercrafting senses, and felt a wave of relief coming from the ranks. They were sick of marching, and were ready, or so they thought, to begin the "real" training. He smirked, and made a motion to the wagons standing by on the edge of the field. As the valets brought the wagons closer to the Legionnaires, Severus said, "Alright, now I want each of you to take a wooden rudius, and get back into formation."

As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he was hit by another wave of emotion, this one of disappointment. "What?" He called out. "Did you think I would trust a bunch of flailing fish with real weapons on the first day? You'd kill each other."

The Legionnaires grumbled, as they picked up the heavy, wooden swords, and got back into their ranks. Severus demonstrated how to properly fight in a shieldwall formation, showing them to always keep their shield high, and to interlock with the man next to them. He watched as the fish made clumsy, chopping movements with their swords, and corrected them, saying, "No, no. It's more of a thrust, like this."

As he showed the correct technique, he overheard one of the Legionnaires whisper to the man next to him, "Why is he showing us this? I know how to fight."

Severus whipped his head around toward the hundred assembled Legionnaires. "Who said that?"

The men in the front rank flinched at the intensity of the Centurion's voice. A hand went up and said, "It was Flavius, Sir!"

"Flavius Benedictus! Get over here, now!"

A young Legionnaire came forward. He wasn't very tall, but had a lean muscular frame. Severus suspected that he was a Steadholder's son. He couldn't have been more than 16 years old, meaning that this was the first of his two required terms in the Legions.

"So, Benedictus, you think you can fight?"

Without hesitating, the young Legionnaire said, "Yes, Sir."

Severus dropped into a fighting stance, shield in front, and rudius in his right hand. "Show me."

Benedictus adopted the same posture, and the two men clashed. Within seconds, Severus and made a quick thrust into Benedictus' right side, in a weak point on his armor. The Centurion relaxed and said, "If this was a real fight, you'd be dead."

"No, Sir," said Benedictus. "I have some metalcraft; I would just shrug it off." He then made a clumsy thrust towards the distracted Centurion, who parried the stroke with ease.

"If you want to keep it up, fine." Severus delivered several more blows to the young Legionnaire, striking him on the side, in the same spot. The last time, he heard a rib crack, and Benedictus went down, gasping in agony.

"There's no way you're that good with metalcraft. Otherwise you'd be a Knight Ferrous. You're dead, Benedictus." Severus turned back towards the ranks, who applauded his victory. "Now, who was it who turned in Benedictus, here?"

Another young Legionnaire, this one looking to be a few years older than Benedictus, came forward. "What's your name, Legionnaire?"

"Antonius Cicero, Sir."

Severus smiled, and placed his rudius on the ground. Then he took out his Centurion's baton and struck Cicero across the bridge of his nose. "Legionnaire," he said, as Cicero clutched his bleeding, broken nose. "If you ever tell me another crowbegotten lie like that, I will develop earthcrafting, just so that I can beat you harder." Severus went over to the fallen Benedictus. "Come on, let me help you up." He helped the Legionnaire to his feet, and turned to the rest of his Century, "You lot, march circles until I get back. Cicero, that means you too. Get back in formation"

As Severus helped the wounded Legionnaire to the medical tent, he said, "That was a bloody brave thing you did, Benedictus. And in true Legion fashion, I'd say."

Through pained gasps, Benedictus said, "I was just doing what you said, Sir; protecting the man next to me, even if he wouldn't do the same."

The Centurion chuckled. "Believe me, if I do my job right, Cicero will do the same when it comes down to it. If not, he'll get Legionnaires killed. And if that happens, I'll kill the crowbegotten coward myself."

Silence fell until they reached the medical tent. Severus hadn't been there yet, but every Legion camp was set up in the exact same manner. If you could find your way through one, you could find your way through them all. He helped Benedictus remove his armor, and lowered him into a tub filled with water. Severus placed his hand in the water and felt Titus, his water fury, flow throughout the tub. "It's not that bad of a wound." He said. "I'll have you fixed up in no time."

"I didn't realize you were a watercrafter, Sir."

"I dabble in it, I'm better with metal. The fact that I have metalcraft is the only thing that lets me fight. I can shut out the flood of other people's emotions that watercraft lets me feel. Otherwise I'd just fall into a sobbing heap."

Benedictus seemed to be getting better. He was able to speak more clearly, as Severus felt Titus moving through the wound, mending the cracked rib. "Thank you, Sir."

"No thanks necessary, Legionnaire. I'm just doing my duty." He pulled his hand from the water. "That should do it. Just get some food and sleep, and you should be better by morning."

As he rose from the tub, Benedictus said, "Are you going to go back to the Century now?"

Severus shook his head. "Not yet. They can stand to march circles for a while longer." Both men laughed as they exited the tent.


	3. Chapter II

Authors Note: Wow, it's been nearly a year and a half since I last updated this. But I'm suddenly inspired again, and recently found my notes for this story. Thought I'd at least try to finish it.

It was late in the afternoon when Horatius Constantine finally awoke. His head throbbed, and made him desperately wish for enough Water or Metalcraft to simply will the pain away. As it was, he realized it all could have been avoided if he hadn't spent the previous night drinking and whoring. _But what would have been the fun in that? _ He thought, as he dressed and stepped out of his tent. The Second Aleran 's camp was set up exactly the same as every other Legion's, and he silently thanked the Great Furies that the other Knights weren't there to see him. Doubtless the Knight Tribune would have set him some mindless, meaningless task as punishment.

He walked through the camp, squinting in the bright midday sun. He swore under his breath, and then suddenly found himself on the ground. He looked up, at first thinking that he'd run into a wall. Instead, he found a Legionnaire in his path.

"Why don't you watch where you're going?" said the Legionnaire, who sounded exhausted. Constantine bit back a reply. He didn't look the part of a Knight yet, with dark red stubble on his chin, and his general unkempt appearance made him look as though he was simply a camp follower.

"I'll have you know, Legionnaire, that as a Knight Igneous, I can go wherever I like in this camp. Why don't you try showing some respect?"

This changed the young soldier's attitude. He helped Constantine to his feet and said, "I'm sorry I snapped at you, Sir. My Centurion has just been giving me a lot of grief today. He broke my nose." His hand rubbed the freshly healed wound. "I'm Cicero, by the way. Antonius Cicero."

"Horatius Constantine," said the Knight, shaking Cicero's hand. "Who's your Centurion? Maybe I can convince him to go easy on you."

"His name's Cassius Severus."

"Oh, crows… There's no talking to him. That man's all about discipline."

"I was afraid you'd say that." The young man groaned, prompting Constantine to put a hand on his shoulder. "But that doesn't mean I can't make your day better. Let me buy you a drink."

Cicero agreed, and the two met up later that night. They went to the various tents and makeshift buildings that surrounded the Legion camp. A Legionnaire could find nearly any earthly pleasure amongst the camp followers, and Constantine splurged a bit, buying a bottle of wine to share with his new friend. The two talked and drank for hours, but Cicero inevitably turned the conversation back to Severus and Benedictus.

"I… I just can't let this stand, y'know?" He said, his words slurred from the wine. "I mean, I'm a Citizen, I can't let that farmboy Flavius show me up like that."

Constantine nodded, "I know what you mean. I get no respect from the other Knights. Maybe… we can help each other out."

"How?"

"We just need to work together. We can come up with something to earn the respect we deserve."

Cicero grinned drunkenly. "I like the way you think, Sir." And with that, the two spent the rest of the night making plans.


	4. Chapter III

Captain Tiberius walked through the Second Aleran's camp, when he was approached by one of his Valets. The young man saluted in standard Aleran fashion, his fist thumping against his chest. "Sir, there's a messenger from the Crown to see you."

Tiberius nodded, and said, "Lead the way." The Valet led him back to his own tent, where two legionaries stood guard. The Captain opened the flap, and entered to see a familiar face. The messenger was beautiful, in her own way. She was lean and athletic, with the golden-brown skin of a Parcian, and hair of precisely the same shade. The Countess Amara turned to face Tiberius, a small smile on her lips.

"Countess, it's been too long." Tiberius gave her a respectful bow, a gesture which she returned. "What news do you bring from the First Lord?"

"I wish it was better news," Amara said, with a heavy sigh, "But the Second Aleran is being deployed. A slave revolt has broken out in Rhodes."

His eyes widened in surprise. "I thought the Rhodesian Senators threw their support behind the abolition proposal nearly a year ago. What made the slaves in Rhodes rebel now, of all times?"

"The Senators did, yes. But High Lord Rhodus himself still supports slavery. The support of the Senators was seen as too little, too late. Emboldened by the so-called "Free Aleran Legion" fighting in the Amaranth Vale, these slaves, nearly ten thousand of them, took up arms as well."

"And the Rhodesian Legions are too busy fighting Kalare's men to defend their own city," Tiberius said, putting the pieces together, "Which is where we come in."

The Countess nodded, "Exactly. But you're also to keep an eye open, to see if anything is more than it appears. The First Lord suspects that Rhodus is hiding something."

"Understood. Thank you, Amara. Give my regards to Count Bernard." He smiled and sent her off. He watched as she flew out of sight, and then sent word to his officers to meet in his tent. He told them most of what the Countess had said, leaving out the First Lord's suspicions of treachery in High Lord Rhodus. The fewer people who knew that, the better. If Rhodus really was plotting something, Tiberius had no way of knowing who his spies could be.

Once he had told them of the slave revolt, he said, "Luckily, Rhodes is only a few days' march from here. We should be able to arrive before the slaves reach the city. I want our corps of engineers making fortifications along the causeway, where our discipline and skill will diminish their advantage of numbers." He pointed to the map which was spread out on the table in the center of the tent. The area he was referring to was already a narrow pass; leading South from Aquitaine towards Rhodes, and it should be relatively easy for the Legion's Earthcrafters to narrow it further. "That is where we'll hold them. The only other ways they could approach the city are by sea, or through dense forest. Being untrained slaves, I'm sure they'll take the easiest route."

The Tribune Tactica, a middle aged Phrygian named Marius, cleared his throat and spoke. "Sir, are you absolutely certain of that? These men won't think like a Legion does. They might split their forces and attack from multiple angles, or move stealthily through the forest, and avoid the causeway altogether."

Tiberius nodded his head towards the Tribune. Marius was a man whom he greatly respected, and his opinions and suggestions were always welcome. "Which is why I'll have our Knights Aeris watching the sea, and Knights Flora stationed in the forest. If they report anything strange, I'll dispatch Legionaries to intercept the threat. But the main body of our forces should remain at the pass. If we meet them in the open field, we're likely to be slaughtered under the weight of numbers."

A Subtribune Logistica, whose name Tiberius did not recall, scoffed at the notion. "I think you're putting too much stock into a rabble of slaves, Captain. They'll likely be starving half to death by the time we face them. They're not a true Legion; I doubt that most of them even have proper arms and armor."

"We can't be sure of that until we see them firsthand, Subtribune. Until then, I am not going to underestimate our foe. I suggest you do the same. These men are fighting for their freedom, and that makes them dangerous, whether they're armed with a gladius, or simple farm tools."

The Subtribune sneered, as though the words he was about to say left a bad taste in his mouth. "Point taken, Sir. Though when put that way, I can't help but think that we're the villains."

Tiberius shook his head. "No, Subtribune, we aren't. These men are outlaws and criminals. They're willing to slaughter a city full of innocents for their freedom. We're simply doing our duty, and protecting those people."

The young officer nodded and fell silent. The Captain went on with the details of his plans for the coming battle, and then told his officers to spread word to their Centurions. The Second Aleran was marching at dawn.


	5. Chapter IV

Forciar Leto, a tall, lean woman with mousey brown hair pulled over her shoulder in a long braid, walked with determination towards her Captain's tent. The smells and sounds of the rebel Legion camp were far from pleasant, and she did her best to move through the Legionaries without drawing notice. Leto was the bastard daughter of a Forcian Knight Flora and a camp follower, who had sold her into slavery as a child. She had moved around from master to master, until she arrived in a small Steadholdt outside of Rhodes. The Steadholder had treated her kindly enough, giving her only duties she could handle with reasonable effort, and he never laid a hand on her. He treated her like any other woman on the Steadholdt, rather than a slave. Unfortunately for Leto, the other men were not so kind, which had prompted her to escape, and join the slave revolt.

She almost wished she had stayed. Tending to crops, cooking, and cleaning were far less strenuous tasks than those asked of her by her Captain. When he discovered that she had inherited her father's talent for Woodcrafting, and that she had learned how to Craft a veil, to hide from the holders who would do her harm, he had her spying out locations and movements of people between the Rhodesian Steadholdts, and watching the progress of the Second Aleran as it marched steadily towards the city. When before she had only cut stalks of grain, she was now cutting throats; silencing sentries so that other troops could move in and slaughter the holders living between Rhodes and Aquitaine. But such was the price of freedom.

She stiffened as she saw the single man who guarded the Captain's tent. The Captain's Singulare was an unnerving man, a master Wind and Metalcrafter, who despite his limp, cut through holders and Legionaries alike with contemptuous ease. Leto had never heard the man utter even a single word; rumor was that his tongue had been removed by his master years ago, before he joined the rebellion.

Trying not to show signs of fear, she spoke to him, "Crassipes, is the Captain in?"

The clubfooted Singulare nodded once.

"I have news for him, may I enter?"

Crassipes nodded again, and stepped aside, allowing Leto to enter the Captain's tent. The Captain himself, Cincinnatus Hadrian, was one of the men she knew of in the Legion who had not been a slave. In fact, he had served in the Rhodesian Legions before being dishonorably discharged by High Lord Rhodus himself. His discharge was the one thing that Hadrian did not like to talk about, and Leto had long since learned not to ask him about it. He sat at his desk, looking over a map of Rhodes and the surrounding area. He had short, curly red hair, and his skin looked slightly burnt from exposure to the sun. He didn't look up as he addressed her. "News from the front?"

Leto saluted and replied, "Yes, Sir. The Second Aleran is on the move. They should arrive in Rhodes the day after tomorrow. My men and I have also done what we can to eliminate their advance scouts. At least the ones moving on the ground, Sir. You know as well as I do that I'm no good in the air."

Captain Hadrian lifted his eyes to meet hers for the first time. "Well, it looks like our troops will get to test their mettle sooner than I thought. Send word to my officers, let them know that we're marching out to meet them. I want to get through the pass before the Second Aleran gets a chance to bottleneck us."

Leto nodded and saluted, then went out into the camp, to do as her Captain ordered. Whether she liked it or not, battle was coming.


End file.
